


be there in the morning

by AppleSun



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, and tyson loves him, jt just loves tyson so much, just a short drabble of them in bed idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:01:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29837811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleSun/pseuds/AppleSun
Summary: JT almost always wakes up before Tyson does.
Relationships: J. T. Compher/Tyson Jost
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30





	be there in the morning

JT almost always wakes up before Tyson does. Tyson is probably the worst morning person JT knows, and he knows Erik Johnson.

Most mornings they wake up curled around one another, legs tangled and bodies pressed as close as possible. Today is no different.

Tyson’s head rests on JT’s chest, his tussled hair tickling JT’s nose when he leans down to press a gentle kiss to the dark, slightly sweaty locks.

As annoying as always waking up before Tyson can sometimes be, JT has found he much prefers waiting for Tyson than waking up to an empty bed, thanks to the few occasions Tyson has actually gotten up before him. JT hates the loss of warmth, the sudden pointed emptiness of his king sized bed. But he’ll never tell Tyson that, because it already sounds stupid and clingy in his head, and there can only be one person who’s stupid and clingy like that in a relationship. (spoiler alert: it’s Tyson).

So, JT has learnt to cherish these moments. These rare moments where Tyson is actually calm, for once, quiet breaths of air the only noise he makes. These moments where Tyson looks years younger than his already youthful twenty-two, sometimes so clear it makes JT feel kind of like a cradle-robber, even though he’s literally only three years older. Any furrowed brows or worried frowns that might come with consciousness don't exist when Tyson's asleep. He looks at peace, untroubled with the stress of being an NHL player. He looks soft.

Maybe it’s dumb, but JT thinks Tyson is softest when he's in JT’s bed, in JT’s arms.

Tyson stirs slightly, and JT hums in response, tracing patterns in the V-dip of his hips. Tyson’s probably going to feel really shitty when he wakes up. Last night was a big win for the team, and they celebrated at Gabe’s house afterwards. Tyson, by drinking - quite a bit. He could barely stand up straight by the time JT dragged him into an uber, swaying on his feet and giggling like a teenager. There’s no doubt he’s going to be more than a little hungover when he finally decides to open his eyes. Considering his size, Tyson’s kind of a lightweight.

"You finally up?" JT asks when he feels Tyson's eyelashes flutter against his chest.

"Nrrghh," Tyson groans.

"I told you you'd regret drinking that much in the morning." JT tells him fondly, because he'll never give up an 'I told you so' opportunity.

"Mm. I don't remember." Tyson admits, sounding sheepish even with his eyes shut and his morning voice all croaky.

"I didn't really think you would," JT agrees. He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to Tyson's forehead, then to the tip of his nose, then to his lips. Just briefly, because morning breath still exists.

Tyson blinks blearily a few times, a soft, sleepy smile tugging at his lips as he finally comes to his surroundings, still slightly unwilling but compliant anyways.

"Morning, babe," he murmurs, reaching out to brush some of JT's hair away from his forehead.

"Hey," JT whispers. "How're you feeling? How's your head?"

Tyson hums, considering. "Not the worst ever, but not great."

JT shakes his head, careful not to jostle the pillow they're sharing too much. "I tried to get as much water into you as I could, but you weren't really interested in anything other than getting your hands on me."

Tyson raises one sleepy eyebrow, curious. "We fucked?"

"No!" JT exclaims, kind of offended that Tyson would ever think that. "God, I'm not gonna fuck you when you're blackout drunk, babe." The last thing he would ever want is to take advantage of the literal love of his life.

"I know, I know," Tyson says, pecking a quick, reassuring kiss on JT's cheek. "But I'm a hot drunk, you know. I'd be fine with it."

"You're a messy, horny drunk, I know you would." JT sighs.

Tyson yawns, and shifts so his arm is free. JT feels his fingers brush over his lower stomach, before pulling at the waistband of his boxers.

“Uh uh,” he says, wriggling away from Tyson’s reach. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Tyson pouts. “I might not remember, but I know you took care of me last night. Let me take care of you now. Plus, make up for lost really-too-drunk-to-do-anything time.” He reaches out again, so JT grabs his wrist.

“Nope, you do not have to repay my human decency with sexual favours, Ty.” JT tells him. “And we don’t have enough time - we have morning skate in an hour and we still need to get some food into you, and preferably a shower too.”

Tyson wrinkles his nose at him. “Are you saying I smell? And morning skate is optional today!”

“Yeah, and we’re still going.”

Tyson groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You’re such a freak, Compher.”

“Maybe, but no more than you,” JT agrees. “Now c’mon, we gotta get up.”

“Wait, wait,” Tyson presses a kiss to the side of JT’s mouth, and JT lets him, just for a second. And before he knows it, Tyson is sucking just below his jaw, licking a long stripe down his throat. It’s sloppy and wet and kind of gross, but it’s Tyson, and JT’s dick twitches in interest anyways. Traitor. “Forget about morning skate for a second,”

“Tyson,” JT tries, but he can feel his resolve disappearing.

“Let me say thank you,” Tyson whispers, his voice breathy and warm, soft lips brushing JT’s ear lobe. “I'll be quick. Promise.”

JT suppresses a shudder. They really do have to get up, but even hungover and kind of gross, Tyson has this effect on him. It’s unfair. Like he knows what JT’s thinking, Tyson gives him a soft smile. His hair falls over his forehead, warm brown eyes crinkling around the edges. It's like glowing, with warmth and sleepiness and happiness and general Tyson-ness.

He’s beautiful, JT thinks. And he’s his.

**Author's Note:**

> first ever hockey fic! short and sweet, so i hope it was okay. i haven't written fic in a while. comments and kudos are always appreciated <3
> 
> title from the song 'morning' by mark. e bassy


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